Cheating Moonstones
by pinkyandthebrain912
Summary: The annual masquerade at Malfoy manor proves to unmask moonstones...and cheating. HerCissa central. Hints of Blackcest and other pairings. For mature audiences only (18 & up).
1. The Brain

**Story Disclaimer: **All characters are of age. By continuing to read further, you confirm you are 18+. Femslash, Blackcest, expletives.

**Author's Note I:** _Greyella_ and _Another Girl Gasping_ PRESENT another collaboration. Part 1 by GreyElla (The Brain), Part 2 by Another Girl Grasping (Pinky). Hints at a myriad of pairings (including Blackcest), but truly Cissa/Hermione central. Enjoy the darker recesses of our minds.

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><p>The masquerade was in full swing as Malfoy Manor became a beacon of dark forms, lit underneath the candle infused chandelier. The enchanted room alternated between gloomy and sultry, as complex charmwork filtered down; an invisible magical orchestra. It was an artistic sight, the small throng of magical folk unrecognizable in masks and facades...their false pretenses. Only the hostess was clear-cut, as there was no avoiding white-hot brilliance; blonde tresses that curled and swept up. Her mask did nothing to hide the aristocratic cheekbones or her ice. The gown was fit for royalty of the night, and she reigned as white queen over the Manor. Slytherin green poured about her slender body as silk and sex, and wove a bodice silver. Blue eyes in the candlelight filmed as frigid moonstones and a mouth painted conversations red with etiquette and wealth.<p>

Yes, the annual Malfoy Halloween ball swung high and full, loaded with ostentatious _hors d'oeuvres and bombastic exchanges._ Anyone…who remained anyone was in attendance, despite…sides. Shrew eyes, had already picked out the Ministry officials in attendance, and narrowed as a fatuous swine of a man gobbled miniature keish tarts at an alarming pace. Then flashes of fiery red hair had the hostess pursing lips and slightly affronted. But despite Malfoy discontent, the Weasleys were someones, pure in blood and favored by the Ministry. And Narcissa Malfoy was nothing if not polite, even in her snarkiest tones. She eyed the youngest Weasley boy, unamused at his boyish antics that disrupted high society; his loud and uncouth language rang out too clearly…too discernable. Annoyed, her eyes dismissed him, and instead caught on his companion. Unmistakably, intelligent eyes marked the chit as the Granger girl (despite the well-crafted mask of disguise). But then Narcissa was always good at undissembling her forced enemies. Unfortunately…so was Bellatrix.

Battle may have been paused tonight, white in flag, but ruthless Bellatrix never paid attention to such frivolous and mannered rules. No, it certainly wouldn't do for blood to bath her sparkling floor. And Bellatrix certainly was a bather. Bella's devotion to her favorite kin wouldn't quell the blooding, not if Voldemort's best lieutenant should find out that the room's oxygen currently shared with impurity. There were many things Bella would do for her sister, but not even touches tendered, taboo and clandestine, would plug murderous intent.

Careful eyes located her dark half on the far side of the room, currently snarling in the weak arms of a husband. A breath of air lost, as the situation seemed precarious, but momentarily controlled. Narcissa scoffed; after all these years, her role as peacemaker grew wearisome, even if Bella did not. Moonstones illuminated, focus again shifting to the youth arguing, the ill-fated couple waltzing amongst her guests.

Perfect lips curled in intrigue. It seemed the dim-witted boy had gall; bringing Bella's hated mudblood into the fray was nothing less than Gryffindor stupidity, even on a night of frivolous truce. But in the flickering light against musical notes, she had to admit that the girl was nothing short of elegant in twirling gown and proud neck. In the royals of blue, Narcissa faintly agreed that Ravenclaw would have suited the insufferable chit far better; scathing words that met her ear confirmed such lines of thinking,

"For Circe's sake, Ron, do keep your crude mouth on a leash! This isn't the Quidditch locker room, nor am I your buddy-boy Potter. Truly it's sick…when a Malfoy has better manners than you."

Narcissa quirked an eyebrow at the unfolding and stifled a low chuckle; amusement at the exchange overrode her family honor. Seems Draco had been correct about the girl's witted temper…and the boyfriend's ginger idiocy. However, she noticed that their rivalry had hidden other…attributes. Like how soft brown curls were reminiscent of Black sister long lost, or how hips curved in firelight and painted her voice far from annoying (as her son had often snarked about).

The Weasley boy opened an angered freckle-face to combat the insult. But glowering amber cut his words silent as the fury continued, spitting in disgust.

"And even if I _were_, still, even Harry would tell you that it's horrendous form to tell your date about the cheating tight pussy you scored last night. We're done. Fuck off, Ronald Weasley, because after tonight I'll make sure that no other girl will."

The smacking slap clashed against lilting music, highly noticeable and out of place in the cordiality of mingling guests. And with that broiling remark, the blued form stalked off, storming wild and breaking the dance. More than several eyes followed as the girl stalked her way out the grand ballroom, weaving as a vine between the waltz.

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><p>Hermione moved about the lower floors of Malfoy Manor, a destination lacking in the mind. Anger ruled; legitimate concerns of safety far from occurring to an intelligent, and fuming, mind. Even tonight, on this hallowed truce night, a lone Death Eater would not hesitate to off one third of the Golden Trio.<p>

She found herself in a small room, a study perhaps. The dark was friend as she stood at the window, wishing the stars were advice. Silent in tears, she ignored them as they stained her silk mask.

'_What was I thinking?…'_ She smoothed rich skirts and berated her mind.

The boy had the emotional range of a teaspoon, and always had. Hermione couldn't find the strength to fire at the resounding image of Lavender Brown, wet and willing for him. She could only hear his insipid excuse rattling around her brain, _"But 'Mione, but we're not even going steady…so you can't be mad! Sometimes a man's just got to get it in…"_

Get it in, indeed. Well he'd gotten in good with her, and Hermione hated that she'd fallen for the ruse. No matter. The stars twinkled much too happily in the moonlight. Hands caressed smooth glass and her forehead kissed the ornate window.

This was how Narcissa found her, a still apparition, appealing and feminine in sight. She molded to the window, defeated and unwavering strength against glass. There was no time for dwelling, only swift action.

"Miss Granger, to your left…the closet. _Now_!"

Hermione startled at the solid urgent voice that tore her solitude into company. For a silent second, their eyes met as birthstones in the greyed room. And then a familiar and throaty voice approached in the hallway, permeating their alcove with singsong tones.

"Ohhhh Cissssy…Olly olly oxen freeeeee…"

Understanding with horrific suddenness, Hermione trusted enemy sentiment and grappled to her left, finding the closet handle firm beneath her hand. Blue skirts had barely dissolved from sight when black ones entered the room haughtily. Bellatrix controlled over the room easily.

"The jig's up, elusive thing. You know, Cissa-mine, it's rather rude to abandon your guests…and me…"

Ever the consummate actress, facing out the window and starbound, Narcissa replied, "And it's rather rude to intrude upon my solitude…"

The closet strangled as hands clamped over a trembling mouth, muffling rapid breath. Hermione managed thoughts, thinking it strange that Bellatrix didn't hex the witch or cackle at her impertinence. Instead, viewing through the cracked closet door, she surprised as the dark witch made toward the fair sister without comment in sight. Amber eyes widened, as clear knowing hands pulled green silk against dangerous breasts. Hermione was all eyes as full lips indecently caressed blonde hair…a neck. Familiarly.

"You are never alone, Cissy, I'm always here, and I won't go away…"

Hermione baulked at the odd tender threat from Bella. It was unsettling to see the dark witch as anything but vile. But in the starlight, from a closet, she saw too much. Delicate lips turned and met taking ones in the night.

"Bellatrix…please, this is hardly the time." The blonde murmured into angles, Black incestual hands stroking her pristine neck.

"It's never the time for us, Cissa. And yet, you didn't seem to…_complain_ last night, when time stood still. In fact, you never complain at all." A crude hand reached around, cupping a sister's sex through thin silk.

The closet crack was narrow, and did not grant Hermione much vision. But the hiss of the blonde's gasp dumped red poppies. And the resulting shove to a blatant sister could be…assumed.

"Control yourself Bella!"

A cauldron cackle. Lips caressed a fine temple for too long.

"Now don't twist…don't wet your _knickers_ sideways, Madame _Malfoy_. I only came to find you because liminal Lucius is an abhorrent host." Roving hands fingered silk hips, lingering along an absent panty line.

Hermione imaged slender eyebrows arching at the statement.

"Leave my…_knickers_ out of this. He's not liminal, that denotes…a threshold, and morals. Truly, Bella, you couldn't have run interference for a moment or two?"

A harsh scoff.

"Do I look like a socialite, or someone with morals?" Bellatrix murmured. Hermione horribly fascinated as those evil and alluring lips descended, nibbling a shoulder willing.

The closet nearly combusted as an uncharacteristic whimper played as blonde sound.

The tongue tilted, and licked language across seeking lips, "I don't abide fools well, sister; I solemnly swear that life would have blooded to a stop had I paid further witness to such pitiful bemoaning."

Delicate hands could be seen reaching in bend, tangling in a forbidden forest, curls as roots.

The mouth shifted to an earlobe, heating the drum within, "And I do know how you hate blood on your tiled floors, Cissa-mine, even if you love my…_passion_. I suggest you return; he's idiotic without the Lady of the Manor, whining like the little girl he is…."

A bursting chuckled moan, as lips traveled journeys across Cissa's jaw, "_You're_ a girl, Bella." Cissa's mirth was uncontained.

"No…I'm a witch, there's a distinct difference, little sister." Tonguing silence clothed them for long seconds.

Rounded amber adhered to its cracked vestige, as it witnessed Bellatrix mingling her dark soul with the lighter element. Lips seared black, and deranged hands dragged arousal upon Narcissa.

Liquid eyes inked lust but withdrew, contemplative, locking secrets within.

"I'll leave you to your…solitude then. But don't be long, or I'll make you scream, and care not for those who hear." Lips hovered in Cissa's ear dangerously, and stole lips into a final dark moan, fleeting a kiss.

The pitch gown whipped in the night, and Bellatrix left as quickly as she had appeared. Footsteps down the hall padded and finally faded. Prudence and Bella in mind, the blonde wandlessly warded the door, locking out any further...intrusions. She sighed and rubbed her temple in consternation.

"Miss Granger, vacate my closet…if you will. But I thoroughly warn you, do _leave _your last visual experience within it. Or heads, most certainly your own, will roll."

A tentative creak produced tendril curls, poking out the closet and followed by rustling blues. Moonstones met ambers in the starlit room and passed on unspoken warnings. Hermione was…unnerved. For someone just caught canoodling with their sister, Narcissa Malfoy seemed unperturbed.

The only thing that could pass Hermione's mouth was a quietly loaded, "Thank you," that implied unvoiced elephants and strangled with...tingles.

Cissa raised a critical eyebrow, "Bellatrix is a…_committed_ entity. It wouldn't do for your m-…blood to paint my floors. I'd rather avoid distraught house-elves who would be beside themselves at the mess."

The young witch couldn't decipher spoken truth from facetious sentiment. Hermione came to the peculiar conclusion that Narcissa played both. In the shadows, the face of her unlikely savior remained stone, jagged rocks, and offered nothing but winter. Finding language was a dilemma, especially when hush was easier. So back to the window, back to the stars Hermione flew.

Green silks regarded the witch thrust into her ironic protection. Since when did snakes protect lion cubs? Against her celestial audience, the young witch's facial features confused and longed for any explanation. Narcissa amused, as the child seemed to halt her legendary stinging tongue…for once. Without another word the hostess made to leave the room, leaving their strange moments behind, and allowing the witch to her originally sought solitude. Halfway to the door, muffled words halted her tracks, and pierced with unexpected blades.

"He never kissed me…like _that_." The voice was intimately contemplative; a sad that Narcissa should never have heard.

A harsh intake of breath pushed uncomfortably, but Cissa found intrigue, despite not wanting to. She turned in time to see the silvers roll down a youthful face. And then cursed her Blackblood. Another's vulnerability shouted through her veins…willing her to conquer. In the taut quiet, Narcissa found odd recognition in curling chestnuts.

'_Andy…'_

The girl had no idea that her dark sister's ire was directed by these…similar features. Bella misplaced amorous-hate via a hexing wand (later revelation had cursed Cissa's suspicions clearly). After the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, Bella had fiercely taken her in the drawing room, and fucked her anger, fucked her long elapsed hurt into the last willing sister. Coming, trying to forget the other who had deserted them. In Cissa, she had attempted to erase the images of Potter's mudblood that looked too sweet…too much like Andromeda. Cissa absorbed, but did not fall to rage as Bella. And so despite their opposing sides, despite the actual people involved, Narcissa found that she softened at the woman-child who seemed to have stolen part of Andy's essence.

"Then he's a fool." Narcissa moved closer to the window, and found that Andromeda left them, as unique shining eyes and a tortured face found hers.

Hermione whispered softly, "But you're not…"

All was lost. Perhaps the girl had meant other than innuendo. But words conveyed correctly or not, Narcissa did not stop the hand that rose, sweeping up a pulsing neck. Doe eyes widened back at her, delicious in innocence.

'_Oh that ginger is most certainly a fool…'_

The girl made not a sound, but the prodigious witch was aware of vocal folds that trembled under her touch. Bella, she knew would not have hesitated to bite them into screams. But Narcissa was a strange conqueror; she preferred honey to catch flies…rather than the swatter. Narcissa was careful, her hand gentle…coaxing trust upon the neck. The girl was an untrained filly and the blonde knew that she would bolt if mishandled. Hermione seemed caught between the frozen still and the vibration of welcomed happenstance. Cissa's face was absent of twitch, an ice pond, but the hand trailed unhurriedly to the curve of a jaw. Fingertips skated in the contours there. And breath hitched in the air, breaking the room into exhalation, parting lips.

Hermione wasn't real.


	2. Pinky

She thought her world a dream, foggy and beautifully unfocused. Colors smeared before her eyes, mingling with so many shades of grey. Lips sought out lips, dying for the pressure, desperate for the static electricity of life upon life. Previously flawless red lipstick smudged beautifully, mussed across the two ladies' mouths.

The shock of sweet, hard kisses burned white hot into both women. An aristocratic tongue breached hungry mouth to sample the taste of less regal lips once more. Eager lips parted readily for probing tongue. Narcissa massaged the young witch's tongue before taking it between teeth and sucking gently. A delicious moan glided into the icy blonde's mouth. She greedily ate it whole.

The kiss broke in two, leaving both chests heaving. Frantic suction of life sustaining oxygen, need. Thirsty gulps of air. Eyes that don't break contact, honeyed brown and arctic blue, clashing, crashing and finally mingling. Narcissa spared a thought for caution, silencing the room. She turned back to Hermione and smiled delicately, menacingly. "Remove your clothing." She ordered. Hermione shivered and began peeling waves of blue fabric away from her skin. Awful barriers disappeared until she stood before the sculpted ice goddess in black lace bra and panties, garters and stay-up stockings. Surprise adorned the elder witch's pretty features. The little chit wasn't as innocent as expected.

"My, my Miss Granger, was ginger going to 'get it in' tonight then?" Ruthless question from apathetic candy lips. A flush crept up on Hermione's cheeks.

"No!" Tumbled indignant reply. A quirk of one perfect blonde eyebrow, a question asked. "I... well... these underthings make me feel... sexy I suppose. They're for me." A smirk in response. Heels clicked upon the floor as Narcissa made her way around the young witch, taking in her charms. Even shy about her sex life like Andromeda had been. The similarities were too abundant to just ignore. The young woman might not be Andy, but she would certainly do.

"Well, my dear, sexy would be the word for it." The final decree. The most important opinion of approval. Narcissa Malfoy, socialite, beauty queen, ice-hearted bitch and she found Hermione Granger sexy. Naturally the young woman stood a bit straighter, prouder. Posture couldn't hold under the cool touch of the pale beauty, though. As a small, but mean hand grasped Hermione's hip the young witch leaned into the touch. If she was going to die tonight than better to do so at these cold hands. She would take blue hypothermia over whatever her darker sister might find suitable any day.

"Miss Granger, I must say I expected you to resist to some extent. After all, we come from different sides of the divide. You and I could not be less suited for one another if we tried." Narcissa slid her hands up Hermione's waist, eliciting a delightful shiver from the young woman.

"I believe the chasm is not relevant on this occasion, this night of truce... And I hardly find I should be judged for sinking my teeth into forbidden fruit. Particularly not by you, having seen your... lustful tastes for things of a forbidden nature." A solid argument. Narcissa acknowledged the well-worded reply with a small nod of her head.

"Do keep in mind that my earlier statement was no idle threat, but sincere promise. What you've seen here tonight will not leave the room." Hermione nodded her agreement.

"I can assure you that what I've seen thus far and anything else that may transpire tonight will never pass my lips. If anyone finds out it will be the walls who tell them what they've seen." With that Hermione leaned in once more, capturing full lips with her own.

With the issue of agreed silence addressed, Narcissa allowed herself to enjoy the moment. She ran her fingers down Hermione's sides, savoring the feel of silken skin beneath the pads of fingers. Hermione moaned at the feel of cold hands against her warm skin. Her own hands were making busy work of undoing her host's dress. The green and silver fabric fell away, revealing pale skin adorned with the occasional small scar. Hermione noticed that many of the scars were small, faint B's. Narcissa watched Hermione take her in. When eyes met again there was no shame in her gaze.

"What does your husband say?" Hermione asked without thinking. Narcissa smirked and laughed coolly.

"I haven't bedded that man since he got me with child. His purpose was served after that. So he doesn't think much of anything about my sister's habit of marking me hers." Hermione nodded.

"I suppose he doesn't have much of an opinion on your choice to forgo undergarments either?" Hermione quipped. Narcissa laughed fully at the question. She chose to answer by pulling the young woman closer to her again.

Hermione's hand was taken by Narcissa and guided downward, released just above the start of fine blonde down. The small gasp of surprise made the icy witch warm. "You're beautiful, Mrs. Malfoy." Narcissa laughed.

"I know that Miss Granger." Hermione snarled. The woman was incorrigible. Hands became rough with annoyance. The frigid witch would melt, oh that ice sculpture would pool at her feet. Hermione grabbed Narcissa by the hips and forced her to her knees.

"Remove my underthings." Hermione demanded. Narcissa unhooked the garters and let the stockings fall to the floor. Hermione stepped out of them, her garters soon followed. Reaching up, she expertly unhooked Hermione's bra. The girl was beautiful. Narcissa pulled her hand back as if burned when Hermione slapped it away from her lace panties. "No hands." She ordered. Hermione smirked as small hands dropped. Narcissa teased a bit kissing and biting at strong thighs before hooking lace between wicked teeth and pulling downward.

Narcissa sat back on her heels, taking in the sight before her. Beautiful and painful to her. The sight of soft, well-trimmed brown curls, damp. The soft scent of woman mingling with the smell of books on shelves. It was as a dream of long ago. This study's walls had played witness to many of Narcissa's trysts with brunette beauty. She missed her sister, but yes, the girl would most certainly do.

Hermione didn't know what was running through the ice queen's mind and didn't have to wonder for long. The woman rose from her knees just long enough to guide Hermione to the desk. The edge of the desk dug brutally into the small of her back and she instinctively braced her hands behind her. Narcissa practically growled with need, sinking back to knees and pressing her lips against wanting flesh.

Hermione's head fell back as Narcissa worked her way between folds. She found the young witch's clit and mercilessly worked it, smirking against the girl when gratuitous moans caressed her ears.

Hermione spread her thighs like a book for the skilled tongue. She never heard so much wanton noise coming from her own mouth. Gods be good, the woman knew what she was doing. Ron never made her feel this way, no one made her feel this way. Knuckles whitened against the desk edge and Hermione lost control, her vision clouded grey as one hand grasped fine blonde hair, pushing Narcissa further into her folds. She came and came and came undone.

"Oh, Narcissa." She cried, but never remembered doing so. A single tear slipped from a frozen eye. The cry could have been Andy's, so familiar. She tongued the witch to completion and wiped at her face, disgusted with the uncharacteristic flood of emotion building inside her.

Honeyed eyes took in the sight before them. The woman was in need, that much was clear, but the reason behind her state was mystery. Hermione made up her mind, reasons were unimportant. She quickly pulled the lady of the manor to her feet. "How do you like it Mrs. Malfoy? You want me sweet and gentle or mean and hard?" She whispered into a delicate shell ear. Narcissa shivered with anticipation.

"I want you..." How did she want her? She couldn't take it if the girl was too sweet. Even Andromeda, the kindest of the three sisters was never too sweet. "Hard, mean. Make me feel you." She decided finally. Hermione smirked... and complied.

Narcissa found her hands on the desk, her body bent at the hip. She felt those brown curls tickling against her skin as the young witch peppered her back with kisses, bites, scratches. She was perfect. Was it possible that the girl had only two hands? It was as if all parts of her were being touched at once, so insatiable were those hands.

Hermione couldn't believe how good the witch felt. Her skin was like cream, she couldn't get enough. She teased and taunted the blonde witch until hips were pressing backward, grinding against Hermione's sex. Steady friction against her clit was making Hermione frantic. "Look at yourself Mrs. Malfoy, writhing like a little girl for a muggle-born. What would your Dark Lord say? What about your sister? Imagine if they found you like this, bent over a desk in your own study mewling for it. Spread your legs." Narcissa moaned. She needed this, she needed the degradation, the pressure. She spread her legs and leaned more weight on her hands.

"You're quite the wanton Mrs. Malfoy." Amusement colored the brunette's words liberally.

"You have no idea." Hermione could feel herself becoming slick once more at the sight of high aristocracy bent and spread, wanting her. Suddenly the most important thing in the world was being inside the cold woman. She easily slipped two fingers into her. Narcissa cried out and Hermione groaned. Hips thrust backward, demanding more. Hermione curled a third finger into the witch's sex. A slow and hard pace was set.

Bellatrix never fucked Narcissa this way. With Bella it was about possession, she pistoned in and out like a machine and Narcissa came to love that feeling. This was disarming in its similarity to her long lost sister. The girl took her time, massaging satin walls with her fingertips, rubbing pleasure into her soul. Hard and soft and all things in between. Hermione felt the ice queen melt around her fingers and smiled. The pace quickened, free hand sought out breasts, teasing more pleasure.

Narcissa crumbled as her walls tightened and released. Cruel teeth dug into the tender flesh of her neck, pushing her unceremoniously over the edge. She came gloriously, her fingers pressing against the desk with bruising pressure. Her back arched beautifully, her lips parted, head thrown back. Hermione had never seen anything so lovely. Curses flowed from normally polite lips unchecked.

Walls ceased to clench and Hermione pulled back. She could have sworn she heard the woman whisper 'Andy.' Though she may have only imagined. Either way she wasn't going to ask. Blue eyes turned on her, water had been set aflame.

"Miss Granger, you are nothing that I expected. I would be a terrible hostess if I didn't show you my gratitude." Narcissa drawled lazily. The lady of the manor was in. Hermione may have glimpsed something of the humanity below the ice façade, but walls were rebuilt far more easily than they fell. Narcissa pushed the young woman backward, full on the desk.

Hermione let go. High-class mouth curved into a snarl as Narcissa began her assault on the beautiful woman before her. Angry red scratches dutifully followed nails down Hermione's torso. Breath hissed between clenched teeth. Hips rolled forward toward cruel hands. Narcissa captured young lips beneath her own and kissed until lungs burned for air.

Hermione couldn't play aloof, she needed the witch inside her. "Please Mrs. Malfoy." Narcissa slapped her, not too hard, but enough to get her attention.

"Call me Cissa-" She demanded. Andy always called her Cissa. "-and tell me what you want." It seemed the know-it-all liked it rough. She submitted quite easily.

"I want you inside of me. I want you to fuck all sense out of me." She begged.

Narcissa climbed onto the desk and positioned herself above the girl. She ran her fingertip up her slit, making sure she was wet... She was abundantly wet. A jolt ran down Narcissa's spine, straight to her core.

"You will scream my name." She told the girl. Hermione smirked.

"Make me." She demanded. Narcissa slammed three digits into the slick flesh between open thighs. Hermione immediately arched her back and her walls accommodated the intrusion. The young witch was so tight, so wet. The frantic pace was almost musical, Narcissa kept easy tempo 4/4, her palm slapping against the girl with each thrust.

True to her word Narcissa forced her name from parted lips. "Say it-" She demanded, her eyes both cold and burning. "-or ill stop." Hermione' eyes widened in panic at the thought.

"Please Cissa, don't stop! Feels so good, need it. So close." Lips curved into a genuine smile. Narcissa got on her knees, not losing a stroke.

"Since you've been so good..." She trailed off and lowered her mouth once more to Hermione's clit. The brunette nearly sat bolt upright at the first touch of Narcissa's tongue. It was quickly too much and before she could even prepare for it she was coming. She screamed for Narcissa.

Both women collapsed for a few moments. The hostess was the first to move. "I really must get back to my guests. I suggest you wait a few minutes before rejoining the party." She said. Hermione nodded, watching the women cast cleaning spells on herself and put her clothes to rights. She was a bit flushed, but that could be blamed on alcohol. Hermione was surprised to see her head over to the fireplace and scoop a bit of floo powder into a small velvet bag. "This only works for this fireplace. I'll have the floo opened in three days time." She said casually dropping the bag into Hermione's lap.

"You want to see me again." Hermione wasn't asking. Narcissa rolled her eyes.

"Obviously." She replied. As she got to the door she stopped and turned back. "And Miss Granger?" She began.

"Yes, Cissa?" The ice woman smirked.

"Don't mention my name, but tell the ginger about the... What was it? Ah, yes! The 'cheating tight pussy' you scored tonight." She said, walking out smiling and leaving an open mouthed Hermione behind.

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><p><strong>Author's Note II: <strong>This was most certainly an interesting write for the both of us, the rather strange and atypical feat. But then again, neither of us aim for conformity. Tell us then in review...did your mind implode or simply float off as an asteroid belt?


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